


every song makes me think of you

by alinaandalion



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F, Swan-Mills Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-02
Updated: 2015-03-02
Packaged: 2018-03-16 00:44:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3468053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alinaandalion/pseuds/alinaandalion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Do you know what you want?” She asks before she thinks and <i>oh</i>, this is flirting with disaster but at least it’s not finding out that Emma wants to be with <i>Neal.</i></p><p>“No.” Emma chuckles and takes a sip of her hot chocolate. “Maybe. Maybe I just like having this. You know? For once, we’re just <i>living</i> and I don’t want to mess that up.”</p><p>Regina smiles at her, and Emma smiles back (<i>never mind, I’ll find someone like you</i>) and yes, just <i>living.</i> It feels like such a miracle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	every song makes me think of you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [deemn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/deemn/gifts).



> Post-Neverland but no reset curse.
> 
> Prompt: emma+music, regina POV

_i_.  _you make me feel (like I am whole again)_

Emma’s car is across the street from the diner, so Regina stops in to get a hot chocolate for her. It’s not until she’s crossing the street to the yellow Bug that she thinks Emma probably already has hot chocolate. But she’s halfway there and doesn’t want to risk throwing it away, so she just holds it closer to her chest and tugs on the car door. Three sharp pulls before it actually opens and she slips inside.

Emma doesn’t even look at her, just keeps staring at the street ahead— _we could have had it all_. Regina breathes in, breathes out. Waits.

She finally holds out the hot chocolate to Emma. “I got you this on the way.”

“Yeah, I saw you.” Emma takes the drink and holds it in her lap, never once looking at Regina. “Where’s Henry?”

“At home, watching some show about making cakes.” Regina manages a small smile and tries to settle into the cracking leather seat, dropping her purse into the floorboard. “I’m worried that he’ll get ideas for his next birthday.”

Emma snorts. “You know you’d love it if he asked for something like that. Probably spend weeks planning it all out and practicing so it would be perfect.”

Regina lets out a soft laugh ( _the scars of your love, they leave me breathless_ ), and Emma is quiet again, still. She curls her fingers into her thighs and goes back to waiting for Emma to say something. The song changes; another one by Adele, courtesy of a cord that allows Emma to play her iPod through the radio (Henry’s gift to her and he was so proud, so proud and it didn’t matter at all to Regina that she chipped in over half because Emma had smiled and smiled and smiled). Emma’s phone vibrates, and Regina watches her check it before throwing the thing into the backseat.

“Fucking Neal.” Emma hits the palm of her hand against the steering wheel.

“Emma, what _happened_?”

Shaking her head, Emma says, “It was just supposed to be dinner, right? We were going to talk about, I don’t know, Henry and stuff, but it was a date. A fucking date. And I thought it would be okay, I could just get through it and leave.”

 _And the games you play_ —

Regina reaches out and brushes Emma’s elbow with her fingertips; Emma sags at the touch and turns her head. Looks at Regina with bright wet eyes, her mouth pulled into a soft sad smile that Regina wants to smooth away with her thumb.

“But?” Regina prompts because as long as Emma is talking to her, that means she can’t march up to Neal’s door and burn him until he’s a small handful of ashes.

Emma sighs and closes her eyes, pulling away from Regina’s hand as she says, “It’s the way he talks about the future. Henry and him and me. He never—he never talks about _you_.”

“To be fair, I don’t exactly spend a lot of time thinking about him,” Regina says. She lets her hand drift to the stick, wraps her fingers around it.

“Regina.” Emma’s voice is so small. “It’s like you don’t exist. Like he’s going to take Henry away from you and that will be okay. The way Neal was talking, it was going to be me, him, and Henry living out this fucking stupid happy family fantasy. And he wouldn’t—he wouldn’t listen to me when I told him that wasn’t what I wanted.”

“Do you know what you want?” She asks before she thinks and _oh_ , this is flirting with disaster but at least it’s not finding out that Emma wants to be with _Neal._

“No.” Emma chuckles and takes a sip of her hot chocolate. “Maybe. Maybe I just like having this. You know? For once, we’re just _living_ and I don’t want to mess that up.”

Regina smiles at her, and Emma smiles back ( _never mind, I’ll find someone like you_ ) and yes, just _living_. It feels like such a miracle.

Emma reaches over and turns off the radio. “I don’t get it. Why are all of Adele’s songs so fucking sad?”

“Not all of them.”

“Oh yeah? You know a happy song by her?”

Regina smirks and hums a little, trying to make sure she won’t butcher the whole thing. She keeps her voice soft, a little scratchy from the cold but on pitch. She can’t look at Emma while she’s doing this— _you make me feel like I am whole again_ — but she can feel Emma’s gaze on her. Her voice shakes and she starts to fade, _whatever words I say I will always love you, I will always love you._

Emma’s hand wraps around Regina’s on the stick and squeezes softly.

“Thanks for coming,” Emma whispers.

Regina breathes in and looks up at her, shaking just the slightest bit. “Anytime.”

 

_ii. and it feels like home_

She hears Emma singing before she actually sees the kitchen. It takes a moment to remember that this is Emma’s day off and she was in charge of getting Henry today, but that still doesn’t explain what they’re doing here, in her house, singing along to Madonna. Shrugging her coat off and hanging it up, Regina makes her way to the kitchen and stops in the doorway, suppressing a grin at the sight of Emma dancing around with a spoon in her hand, Henry bouncing along beside her.

“Like a virgin touched for the very first time,” Emma warbles along with the music, and then she looks up and grins at Regina. “Hey. Sorry about the mess.”

“What is going on?” Regina asks, arching an eyebrow as she glances at the flour on the floor.

“Emma thought we could make cookies and the oven is broken at her apartment,” Henry says as he settles behind the counter and starts scooping out dough and dropping it on the empty cookie sheet in front of him. “We’ll clean everything up.”

Emma nods her head and leans over the counter, swiping her finger through the dough and stuffing it into her mouth. “Mmm, yeah, I just thought it would be fun to make cookies with the kid. And we’re ordering pizza for dinner tonight.”

“We are?”

“It’s Friday, Mom. Tradition.” Henry grins at her and the stiffness in her spine melts away.

Regina shakes her head and smiles. “You’re right.”

Emma’s grin widens and she grabs a spoon off the counter, dipping it into the dough before half-dancing, half-bouncing her way over to Regina, humming the whole way. Regina rolls her eyes but she parts her lips and lets Emma feed the cookie dough to her as her cheeks flush.

“Is it good?” Emma asks and her eyes are bright and warm.

“Delicious,” Regina murmurs, taking a step back and licking her lips.

“Awesome.” Emma twirls the spoon in her fingers and shuffles back around the counter to join Henry, singing, “You’re so fine, and you’re mine.”

“Your singing sucks, Ma,” Henry says as he rolls his eyes.

Emma shoves his shoulder and frowns. “Like you’re so great, kid.”

“Better than you.” He sticks his tongue out at Emma and elbows her in the arm.

“And what prompted the decision to listen to Madonna?” Regina asks as she strides to the counter, leaning on the few clean inches on her side of it.

“Felt like a Madonna sort of day,” Emma replies with a shrug. “And Henry said he’d never really listened to her, so I thought I should do something about that. Can’t have our kid lacking a good music education because you don’t have any taste. It’s like you’ve been living under a rock.”

“On the contrary, Miss Swan, I very much enjoy Madonna’s music. I just don’t always prefer to listen to her.” Regina stands back up and brushes some flour off the front of her skirt. “And how did you manage to get flour on this side of the counter?”

“There may have been a small war that involved throwing flour,” Emma mutters as Henry laughs. Then she points her spoon at Regina. “So, you’re a Madonna fan?”

“Put your cookies in the oven, and I’ll prove it to you.” Regina sighs nods to the sink, saying, “And don’t forget to wash your hands.”

Emma raises her eyebrows. “Where are you going?”

“The piano. Come on, Ma, hurry up.”

Regina shakes her head as the two of them start scrambling to shove the cookie sheets into the oven, and she goes on through to the living room and sits down at the piano. She doesn’t play nearly as much now but the memory is still there, the familiarity of her surroundings sinking in through her skin and to her bones as she opens it and looks down at the keys, running her fingers lightly over them. She hears Emma and Henry come into the room and then Emma plops down onto the bench beside her, testing out a few keys.

“I was going to sit there,” Henry complains and Emma shrugs and gives Regina a sly smile.

“Come on, kid, you get to hear her play all the time. And I got here first.”

Regina rolls her eyes and starts playing a slowed-down version of “Like a Prayer.” It’s actually a little slower than it’s supposed to be—she hasn’t played nearly enough in the recent years and it shows so she has to adjust, taking out almost all the arpeggios and incidentals and she’s still tripping over some notes and the chord transitions are too abrupt. One of Emma’s hands settle on her lower back, fingers spread, gentle and warm. It’s easier to disguise the mistakes when she starts singing and Emma’s hand drifts a little lower.

“I hear you call my name and it feels like home,” Regina finishes, holding onto the last note even as she lifts her hands from the keys.

Emma’s smile is soft as she looks at Regina, hand still on her back. “That was amazing.”

“Thank you.” Regina can feel the heat rising in her cheeks and she looks away.

“But you do know what that song is about, right?”

“Yes, Emma.” Regina drags out the two syllables of her name and rolls her eyes. “Of course I know what that song is about.”

Henry sighs behind them. “You guys are so gross. I’m gonna do my homework until it’s time for dinner.”

As he pretty much stomps up the stairs, Emma plucks out a couple of notes as she says, “I don’t know what he’s talking about. Do you? I mean, I think we’re doing just fine.”

“He’s a teenage boy, Emma.” And that’s not an answer but Regina has no intention of pointing out that _something_ is going on and of course their son would pick up on it. Things are good right now. Better than ever before and she doesn’t want to lose that.

“Yeah, I guess. So can you play anything else?”

“A few things.”

She resettles and starts playing a new piece, Rachmaninoff, one of her favorites. Emma’s hand stills but she doesn’t move it and it’s good. This is good and Emma smiles at her and she smiles back.

 

_iii. saving all my love for you_

Emma sways on her feet, eyes closed and drink held tight in two hands. Regina tries to hide her smile behind her glass of whiskey but she fails miserably, too drunk to stop her giddy laughter or the way she reaches out to Emma.

“You’re _ridiculous_ ,” Regina says as Emma twirls and looks at her, grinning.

“I’m having fun.” Emma’s cheeks are flushed, her smile brilliant as she shuffles over to Regina. “So I’m saving all my love for you.”

Regina leans back against her desk—too close, too close—and raises an eyebrow. “You do know what that song is about?”

“Yeah,” Emma breathes, her hands coming up to rest on Regina’s hips. “But it’s the song we’re listening to and I couldn’t think of something better.”

“For what?” _Too close_ but Regina can’t look away, can’t pull free of Emma’s warmth and brilliance and sweet smile.

“This.”

Emma kisses her. Leans in close, presses her lips against Regina’s, and kisses her. Regina breathes in sharply and when Emma pulls back with a question in her eyes, Regina tugs her back close and kisses her and kisses her. She can’t stop smiling, and one of Emma’s hands is cupping her cheek, and Emma laughs against her mouth, and maybe Regina’s whiskey ends up on the carpet but it doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter.

 

_iv. and it was your heart on the line_

She isn’t surprised to find Emma sitting on a bench at the docks. After getting Henry’s phone call, it had been the first place she’d thought of to go. She would normally be irritated by the fact that she is spending the end of her workday hunting down Emma but considering the circumstances…

( _”Mom, you have to go find Ma.”_

_“Why? Aren't the two of you having lunch with your grandparents?”_

_“…yeah. We did.”_

_“What happened?”_

_“They’re having a new baby and they told us at the diner.”_

_“Oh.”_

_“Mom, I don’t know where she is.”_

_“She didn’t leave, Henry. I promise. But I’ll find her.”_ )

She sits down on the bench beside Emma and waits. Emma doesn’t look at her, but she does pull out her left earbud and offer it to Regina, so Regina takes it. She can hear the music without putting it into her ear ( _weep, little lion man, you’re not as brave as you were at the start_ ) so she barely sticks it into her ear. No reason for both of them to go deaf.

_And it was your heart on the line…_

“Henry told you.” Emma’s voice is sharp and Regina has to curl her fingers into fists to keep from trying to take her hand.

“He was worried about you,” Regina says, careful to keep her eyes trained forward, her breathing slow and steady, her hands still.

“He was scared that I would run.”

There’s no way around it. “Yes.”

“Did you think I would?” And Emma looks at her, tears on her cheeks— _tremble for yourself, my man._

“I wouldn’t blame you if you did,” Regina tells her, and it’s not a lie, it’s not a lie but Emma flinches anyway, a sob wrenching out of her throat. Regina takes her hand slowly, holds it tight and says, “Emma, I didn’t mean it like that. Please, don’t—”

“It’s what everyone expects, though, right?” Emma laughs, bitter and cracking and cold. “For me to run.”

“Emma.”

She pulls free from Regina’s grasp ( _and it was your heart on the line_ ) and shakes her head. “I thought about it. I drove to the town line and looked out at the road and thought about just driving away.”

“You didn’t, though.” Regina tucks Emma’s hair behind her ears and leans forward until their foreheads touch, holds Emma’s face in her hands. “You stayed. You’re still here, Emma. You’re still here.”

“I hate them for this,” Emma whispers.

“That’s okay.” Regina gives her a small smile. “I can always curse them for you?”

“Thanks.” Emma huffs and ducks her head into the crook of Regina’s neck. “But you probably shouldn’t.”

Regina hums under her breath and leans back against the bench as she says, “It wouldn’t be any trouble. I’d probably enjoy it.”

Emma laughs and she’s crying but her breath is warm against Regina’s skin and she’s here. She’s _here_ and she’s stayed and Regina just holds her close and safe as she can.

 

_v. wheels go round and round,  you’re on my mind_

The thing about Emma is that she’s not a good singer. She rarely hits the right notes, sometimes she gets off-tempo. But she’s still mesmerizing as she moves around the kitchen, dancing and smiling, light playing through her fingers. She spins across the floor and when she faces Regina, her smile is brilliant, like the sun coming up over the horizon and she pulls Regina into her orbit as easily as she breathes.

“Dance with me,” Emma murmurs as she wraps her arms around Regina’s waist and sways their bodies together.

Regina laughs and lets Emma dance her around the kitchen. Emma presses her lips against Regina’s neck, smiles as Regina hums along with the music. _I’m forever yours, faithfully_ _._

Emma looks at her and grins, her voice soft. “Every song makes me think of you.”

Regina kisses her, slow, gentle, fingers at the nape of Emma’s neck.

“Even the sad ones?” Regina asks but she smiles.

“Some of them are sad. But they matter. The ones that make me feel…alive. That I _feel_ _._ ” And her eyes are bright, bright, bright to match her soft fingers and voice and smile.

“Okay.” Regina presses her lips to the corner of Emma’s mouth. “Okay.”


End file.
